


there's something tragic about you

by knob_20



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean has a lot of feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romantic Gestures, Russian Castiel (Supernatural), sam and dean are backpacking in europe, sex then feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23710123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knob_20/pseuds/knob_20
Summary: Dean meets Castiel and they have an immediate connection. Will miscommunication and external forces split them apart, or bring them closer together?Or: they’re backpacking together and Sam just wants them to get a room.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	there's something tragic about you

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe there is no hunting and the brothers are living normal(ish) lives. Sam is 18, Dean is 22.
> 
> Rated T for implied sexual content aka vague references to sex because (I’m a coward) I don’t want to write sex scenes, alcohol and recreational drug use.
> 
> I posted this a few days ago as 2 chapters, but had serious technical difficulties so I'm giving up and reposting it as 1 chapter.

**Germany, 2001**

Dean lay on the damp sheets and exhaled slowly, pleased with himself. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten the hot Russian’s attention, let alone gotten him into his bed. Well. It wasn’t technically his bed.

They’d been lucky to get the two-person room at the backpackers hostel, dingy but private, with a bed each for him and Sam. The teenager had left with incredible speed when Dean and his new friend had stumbled through the door, tongues down each other’s throats.

They were both still breathing hard from exertion. Dean turned his head to the side. Blue eyes met his, and lips split open in a toothy smile that Dean had to admit was adorable.

Leather jacket, motorcycle and all, he’d introduced himself as Castiel Krushnic. Dean had called it luck that they were staying at the same hostel. Castiel had called it fate.

Castiel rolled on top of him and braced himself on his forearms, their faces inches apart. His dark hair tickled Dean’s nose and he wrinkled it. Castiel smiled again.

“You are cute.” That accent had been doing things to Dean a few minutes ago.

“I am _ not. _ ”

“We will agree to disagree.” Castiel closed the distance between them, breath hot and lips soft.

Before things could get good again, Castiel rolled off him. Dean tried to follow the warmth, but Castiel was reaching off the edge of the bed. He lifted Dean’s battered guitar from where it leant against the wall.

“Can you play this?” His eyes were bright.

Dean groaned. “Seriously?”

“What? I appreciate guitar music.” Castiel sat up properly, holding the guitar as if it was made of glass. 

Giving up on sex in his immediate future, Dean sat up as well.

“Yeah, I play a bit.” He wasn’t great, but he actually enjoyed picking out tunes and chords.

Castiel offered the instrument to him. Dean grumbled, but Castiel had puppy dog eyes to rival Sam.

“Okay, but don’t expect much.”

He took a deep breath and started strumming It’s My Life. Couldn’t go wrong with Bon Jovi. He sang the lyrics under his breath, losing himself through the first verse and chorus.

_ This ain't a song for the broken-hearted _

_ No silent prayer for the faith-departed _

_ I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd _

_ You're gonna hear my voice _

_ When I shout it out loud _

_ It's my life _

_ It's now or never _

_ I ain't gonna live forever _

_ I just want to live while I'm alive _

_ It's my life _

He trailed off. Castiel was watching him with rapt attention and he reddened. Had anyone ever looked at him like that before? Like they could see right into his soul. Maybe Sam, but he didn’t count.

Dean couldn’t stand it. The first thing that came to mind was- “Do you want to learn?”

“What?”

“I can teach you something, if you want?” His cheeks burned, but it was worth it when Castiel’s face lit up.

“Okay, I’ll play it first, and then you copy me step by step.”

Dean put his left hand over the frets again. He fingerpicked a slower tune, soft and sweet.

“That was beautiful,” Castiel said, voice hushed. Dean wasn’t sure why the tune had come to mind. His mother used to hum it all the time, and had taught it to him when he was old enough.

He handed the guitar to Castiel a minute later, who took it gingerly.

His fingers fumbled and slid along the strings. Dean was as patient as he could manage, showing him where to put his fingers and how to press hard on the string to get the clearest sound.

Castiel looked at the metal token tied to the guitar head. “What is this?” 

“My lucky amulet.” Dean looped the string between his fingers. “I got it in Poland, it’s supposed to be protection against monsters.” The grooves in the coin-shaped metal were smoothed out from years of fingers rubbing its surface.

They continued with the guitar. Finally, Castiel could clumsily play the tune all the way through, with a few slip-ups, and Dean reminding him about his left hand position. When he played the last note, he smiled so widely Dean thought his face might come apart. And he kissed Dean on the cheek and left him mumbling and blushing like an idiot.

“With some practice it’ll be great,” he said.

Castiel’s eyes glinted with steel. “I will practice,” he declared. “Thank you Dean.”

Dean cleared his throat. “No problem.”

A cautious knock on the door signalled Sam’s return. “If you two aren’t decent, I’m gone.”

Dean grinned. “Give us a few minutes.”

There was a disgusted noise from the other side of the door.

***

“You both need to be out the morning after tomorrow.” Sam and Dean both started protesting. Abaddon held up a hand.

Not a strand of the hostel owner’s bright orange hair was out of place, despite the summer heat.

“Tourist season is starting, so a lot of rooms will be clearing out.”

Sam frowned. “You didn’t say anything about that when we got here.” They’d barely been here a week, and Dean knew there were museums on his list that he hadn’t visited yet. The kid had insisted on backpacking as soon as he finished high school, and Dean wasn’t going to say no to getting out of a mind-numbing retail job and going overseas with his little brother.

Abaddon was unmoved. “Well I’m saying it now. Be grateful you’re getting this much warning.”

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam stepped in before he could say something stupid.

“Fine. We’ll be out of here by Monday.”

“Don’t forget your fee for today and tomorrow.” She smirked and swept out the door.

Dean scowled after her. “The rent is already insane, now she’s making us leave? I’m pretty sure that tourist season already happened this year anyway.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “The other day, I saw her standing outside our room. She was acting kind of weird. And I’ve heard a rumour about her being in people’s rooms when they’re not there, and then kicking them out the next day.”

“I’ll be happy when we’re out of here. Do you think Charlie’s still around with her van?”

Sam nodded. “If we’re lucky. I wouldn’t mind a ride.”

***

“Did you take my guitar?”

“No. Did you lose it again?”

“I couldn’t find it last night.”

Sam snorted. “It’s right here, dude.”

“Ah.” Dean took it off him and Sam rolled his eyes. He was getting ready to leave for as many museums as he could manage on their last day. Dean was about to go to the classic car museum. It was the reason he’d wanted to come to Dusseldorf.

There was a knock at the door, and Sam opened it.

“Oh, it’s Castiel right?” Dean snapped to attention. He hadn’t seen him since they’d met two days ago. Although he didn’t think ‘met’ was exactly the right word for what they’d done.

“Yes. You are Sam?”

“Uh huh.” Dean saw the evil grin on Sam’s face and jumped up, barging him out of the doorway before he could say anything that would make Dean want to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

“Hi.”

“Hello Dean. I came to see how you were doing.” Dean felt himself going pink. What was it about this guy? He’d only known him for a day.  _ Say something you idiot. _

“Abaddon’s kicking us out, so we’re leaving tomorrow.” Smooth.

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Something about clearing out rooms for tourist season.” Dean scowled. “She was being pretty dodgy about the whole thing.”

His brow furrowed. “I had not heard about this. I will ask her about it.”

“Nah, it’s all good man. We’re just going to enjoy our last day and get the hell outta dodge.”

Castiel’s frown deepened, but he let it go. “What are you going to do today then?”

“I’m going to the classic car museum.”

His face lit up. “You like classic vehicles?”

“Hell yeah. You’ve got that awesome bike right?”

Sam groaned from the other side of the room. “Please, no more car talk. Out.”

Dean snorted and Castiel tilted his head to the side.

“Fine. Castiel, are you coming?”

“To the museum?”

Dean faltered. “If you want to. You don’t have to, obviously.”

“I would like that very much.”

They found their way to the museum. It had over-friendly tour guides and an over-priced gift shop. Castiel wrinkled his nose at the BMWs and Dean nearly cried over an Impala model. It was the most fun Dean had had in a while.

Later, Castiel asked. “How are you leaving Dusseldorf?”

“Oh, we’ve got a friend with a van coming. I think she’s going a roundabout way to France.”

Castiel nodded, fidgeted with his jacket.

“Would you mind if, if I came with you and Sam? I was planning to go to France as well.”

Dean’s mouth was already going “Course you can, Charlie won’t mind,” but his mind was racing. Did he really just want a ride, or did he want to go with Dean?

***

In the morning, a rattle and obnoxious horn announced Charlie’s arrival. Dean winced at the van’s scratched paint and wobbly wheels.

Him, Sam and Castiel heaved their packs up and made their way over. Charlie greeted them way too enthusiastically for eight in the morning. She swept open the creaking side door for them.

“Your chariot awaits, milords.” What a nerd, Dean loved her.

He glanced back as they walked away. Abaddon stepped out the door, watching them leave. Movement around her neck caught his attention.

Swinging from a shiny chain, his amulet rested on her chest. Abaddon’s eyes met his and her lips curved up, sickeningly sweet as boiled candy.

Dean clenched his fists. When he’d ‘lost’ his guitar for a night. She had taken it. Returned it but kept the amulet, and he hadn’t noticed it was gone. His lucky amulet.

“Hey,” he walked back. “You’ve got something of mine.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dean’s temper had been hanging by a thread, and it snapped. “Listen you bitch, that’s my amulet you’ve-” She cut him off.

“If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.”

“That’s bullshit!” He started towards her. She held up her phone in warning, that smug smile still on her face. 

Sam grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards. “Dean! It’s not worth it.”

It took all of Dean’s self control to let himself be pulled into the van.

“Let’s go,” Sam said grimly, making an uncharacteristically rude gesture at Abaddon.

Dean glared as Charlie drove them away, thinking of every curse he knew and willing them to be set on her.

A hand rested on his arm and he jumped slightly, looking up at Castiel.

“It will bite her in the ass one day,” he said, eyes steely. Dean felt a tiny bit better.

***

Charlie had another passenger, a kid called Kevin Tran who looked way too young to be travelling by himself. Dean never found out why he was travelling in the first place. He seemed to be scared of almost everything.

At night, Charlie slept across the front seats. There was space for two on the floor, and Dean quickly volunteered for a spot. He admitted to himself that he was hoping Castiel would join him. He would not admit to himself that there might be bugs might be on the ground outside.

Right after him, Kevin asked nervously if he could also stay in the van. Not because he was scared of the dark, “just because.” Dean shoved his disappointment down deep.

So Sam and Castiel slept on the ground at night, and during the day Castiel preferred to follow them on his motorcycle, even though there was a space on the back of the van to attach it. The bike was a beauty up close. A classic, all shiny steel and leather.

Castiel was determined to practice the guitar. He was cagey about his family, but Dean learnt that he was the youngest of many siblings back in Russia. Dean told him about his mum’s unexpected death and pretty much raising Sam by himself.

Even though they were getting closer, they felt further apart too. Castiel hadn’t shown any interest in getting physical with him since their first night. It was hard to get close when you’re living in a van with two other people. Still, Dean was starting to second guess if something was between them at all. They’d known each other for a week, for god’s sake.

Castiel had the looks to get as many one night stands as he wanted, he probably didn’t think anything of that first night. And he’d probably just taken the opportunity to get free transport to France. Dean was the one catching feelings, and he felt like a goddamn schoolgirl.

Charlie took a lot of detours, and none of them minded tagging along. They spent a few weeks driving around the north of Germany, then the Netherlands. Every time Castiel was around, Dean’s sinking feeling just got worse.

They ended up in Amsterdam. And would they be real backpackers if they didn’t  _ partake _ in Amsterdam?

The five of them found themselves around the back of a bar. Sam unashamedly took advantage of the drinking age in Europe compared to back home. Dean didn’t have the heart to stop him.

Dean didn’t know how much alcohol he’d had, or how much he’d smoked. He went to the bathroom and the peeling wallpaper was swirling. So probably a lot.

When he came back, Charlie was unashamedly hitting on a pretty girl, and he caught sight of Castiel and Sam laughing with a guy Dean didn’t recognise in a corner. Dean’s stomach did a nauseating flip as Castiel put a hand on the guy’s arm to steady himself. It was probably nothing. Right?

Who was he kidding. Castiel was insanely cool, and sweet, and weird, and he obviously wasn’t interested in Dean and his stupid crush. So what. Dean didn’t care. He was used to people not wanting him.

He didn’t care so much that he could do  _ this _ . He found a random guy -who just happened to have bright blue eyes- grabbed his face, and mashed their mouths together.

The guy didn’t protest, and deepened the kiss. It wasn’t like kissing Castiel. It was just kind of wet, and tasted awful. After a minute, Dean blinked and disentangled himself. The guy stared at him, flushed and panting. 

“Um. Thank you.” Dean nodded and turned away unsteadily. And came face to face with Castiel. Dean didn’t have time to process the expression he was making. Because he was throwing up over Castiel’s shoes.

***

Castiel waved away his hungover apologies over and over again. “It’s fine Dean, don’t worry about it.”

But it didn’t stop him from leaving.

He said he needed to meet up with someone, but wouldn’t give any more details. Dean knew he’d fucked it up. Whatever they had or didn’t have.

Castiel gave him a sliver of hope though, saying that he would meet them in Paris in a month. So he wasn’t leaving for good. Still, Dean didn’t blame him for needing a break from Dean’s bullshit. He could go and find someone else and forget all about- _ bad thoughts, stop it _ .

After Castiel waved goodbye, Dean miserably spilled everything to Sam. Sam told him that they were both idiots. Brothers are extremely unhelpful.

The month passed slowly. Kevin left them for Italy, and Charlie dropped Sam and Dean off in Paris. Sam was in his element, museums and libraries around every corner. Dean mainly played his guitar. It occurred to him one day that Castiel wouldn’t be able to practice. He had to quickly think about something else to stop his eyes burning.

Finally, the day arrived. Dean was up before Sam, which Sam could barely comprehend. He dragged Sam to the Sacre-Coeur, where they had agreed to meet. They were there by nine in the morning.

The morning dragged on. Dean planted himself on a bench and avidly watched tourists come and go, scanning the crowd of faces for Castiel.

Morning stretched into afternoon, and Dean’s leg was bouncing uncontrollably. Sam told him that there was still plenty of time.

Afternoon turned into early evening.

“Maybe he got stuck in traffic,” Sam said. Dean couldn’t look at him. 

The sunlight left the leaves at the top of the trees. Deep blue began to crawl across the sky.

They went home. They went back the next day.

Eventually Sam stopped trying to come up with reasons why he wasn’t there yet. 

He wasn’t coming. “He’s not coming.”

“Dean, are you-” Dean shook his head and walked away.

The next day they packed up and left Paris.

***

**Spain, 2002**

“Hey Dean, there’s a letter for you.” Ash pushed through the door to his tiny room.

Dean frowned. Who would be sending him a letter?

He and Sam had both managed to get jobs in the city to save up some money before heading back to the US. Sam had seen enough museums and libraries to last him a lifetime, and Dean had just had enough of Europe.

Their flatmate for the last three months was Ash. He was a stoner and a genius, and somehow pulled off an outrageous mullet. He handed Dean the letter, crumpled and smudged.

He ripped it open. There was only enough space on the paper for a few words:

_ In Russia. Please call me. 8-499-787-5307 _

_ Castiel. _

Dean’s breath stuttered. After nearly four months, he got sent a phone number?

What the fuck was wrong with this guy? And still, he stared at the landline across the room. He really wanted to hear Castiel’s voice. And why was he back in Russia? He had to know. He dialled the number with cold fingers and held the phone up to his ear. 

It rang, then a female voice. "We're sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

He stared at the receiver, ears buzzing.

“You alright man?” Ash poked his head in. “You’re kinda pale.”

Dean’s insides felt numb. “I’m fine.” He put the phone back.

He didn’t answer when Sam asked why he was in bed at two in the afternoon.

***

**USA, 2016**

When Dean woke up early on Thursday morning, he could honestly say that he was okay. Good, even.

He drove Baby to the shop. He’d finally saved enough to buy the beaten up Impala ‘67 from a guy who deemed her a lost cause. It had been a lot of hard work, but he’d gotten her into shape and he was pretty sure he’d die for her. Sam said that being so attached to a car was unhealthy. Dean ignored him.

The bookshop was really Sam and Eileen’s, but he worked there most days. He even had spare time to work on Baby. It was a quiet day, so Sam and Eileen left Dean to run the shop while they ran some errands. Translation: they were going to hide somewhere and be disgustingly mushy. He shuddered to think.

Dean was helping an old couple check out their books when the door chimed. Dean glanced up to see a man walk in. The trench coat and suit were a weird choice for the sun outside.

He was just opening the till when a voice humming made him frown, then froze him in place. The voice was humming a tune his mother taught him a long time ago. He’d only ever shared that tune with one person. He whipped his head up and stared.

The man in the trenchcoat was a few metres away, looking at him with his head tilted and piercing eyes. Blue eyes. Dean vaguely registered himself stepping out from behind the counter.

“Castiel?” He managed through numb lips.

The man gave him a small smile. “Hello Dean.”

Dean’s chest was tight.

“What- how-” Dean stuttered. What came out of his mouth next wasn’t what he planned to say. “Where the fuck were you?”

Castiel winced. The lines in his face were deeper, and he had a loose dusting of stubble on his jaw.

“I’m sorry. You probably have a lot of questions.” His accent wasn’t as thick as it was fifteen years ago.

He also didn’t plan to say the next thing that came out of his mouth: “Do you want to go and get coffee? With me I mean.”

“I’d like that.” Castiel smiled nervously. 

Dean jolted back to reality. “I gotta- hang on.” He started back to the counter, then turned and jabbed his finger at Castiel.

“You, stay there. Don’t move.” He was unreasonably scared that if he lost sight of him, he'd be gone again.

He hurried back to the customers, who looked bewildered with a side of impatience. He rushed through their transaction and then called Sam.

“Sammy.”

“What’s up? You sound weird.”

“It’s uh, it’s Castiel. He’s here.” The man in question was intently examining a magazine stand.

“What? Castiel like Castiel from-”

“He’s in the shop.”

“Oh my god. Dean-”

“Can you come back?”

“Yeah, of course. Lucky, we were already on our way back. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Dean exhaled heavily. “Okay. Good.”

A while later, Dean and Castiel left the shop, Sam and Eileen staring after them.

“This is yours?” Castiel’s voice was reverent.

“Yep, she’s my Baby.” Dean looked over her fondly.

They drove in uncomfortable silence, heading for Dean’s favourite diner. For some reason, Dean didn’t want to start talking before they could sit down somewhere. His mind was buzzing. How the hell had Castiel found him? Why now, just when his life was starting to feel simple? And why did Castiel still do things to Dean’s chest? He’d only known him for a few weeks, for god’s sake. 

The diner was a little place. For some reason Dean loved the generic tiled floor, and how the air was heavy with grease.

They sat down in a booth, opposite each other. Dean avoided Castiel’s eyes. Flo, a rough old lady, took their coffee orders.

Dean couldn’t take the silence any more. “This is fucking weird. I don’t really know what to say.”

Castiel took a sugar packet and started folding and rolling it. “I… don’t know where to start either.”

“How about we start with how the hell you found me. I mean jesus, it’s been fifteen years.”

Castiel nodded. “I was in Missouri. By chance I saw a car, an Impala model. And for some reason that reminded me of you.” Dean blinked. 

He continued, staring at the sugar packet. “I wasn’t even thinking about coming then, even though I remembered that you and Sam lived in Kansas, a few hours drive away.”

He laughed but it was short and sad. “I couldn’t imagine you would want to see me, or if you’d even remember me.” Dean couldn’t imagine a version of him that would forget Castiel.

“But the next day I found myself humming a tune to myself.” He looked up at Dean. “I didn’t practice the guitar, I’m sorry.” Dean snorted, and Castiel cracked a smile.

“I knew then that I had to try and find you. It didn’t take much Googling to find ‘Winchester Books.” His smile faded as quickly as it started. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t want to talk to me, but I wanted to give you this anyway.”

He pulled something out of his pocket, putting it gently on the table between them. Dean stared. There on the table, shiny and looking the same as it had the day he lost it, was his amulet.

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times. “But- that bitch of a hostel owner took it- how did you-?”

Castiel was back to fidgeting, this time folding a napkin. “I lied when I said I was going to meet someone. I went back to the hostel and asked Abaddon to give the amulet back. She refused, so I asked how much she would sell it for. She named a large sum of money.” Dean scowled. Bitch. “So I sold my motorcycle and paid her.”

Dean jolted. “You did what? You loved your bike, why the hell would you do that?” Flo made an angry noise at his raised voice from somewhere behind the counter, which Dean barely acknowledged.

Castiel shrugged. “You cared about your amulet, so it didn’t matter.” Dean’s heart skipped at how simple he made it sound, just giving up his prized possession for  _ him _ . Stupid. Romantic as fuck. He could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Thank you,” he said lamely, reaching out and taking the amulet.

Castiel still looked ready to bolt. “If you want me to leave now I will.”

“No!” Dean cringed, and Castiel stared.

“I mean, I’d like you to stay.” Dean cursed himself. “You, you still owe me at least one more explanation.” Castiel started to smile.

“Coffee,” Flo said shortly, materialising with two cups. Dean thanked whoever was out there for the interruption.

His coffee was strong and creamy. Castiel’s was frothy, and he had already put the two marshmallows in his mouth.

Dean waited until he had swallowed and then- “So. Paris.”

There was a heavy silence, then they both started talking at once.

“The-” 

“I-” Dean stopped and Castiel ploughed on.

“I want to start by apologising.” He looked straight into Dean’s eyes. “Paris, then the letter. I imagine it would have been frustrating.”

Frustrating was not the word Dean would have used. Crushing, maybe. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Even though I didn’t have my motorbike, I thought I would have time to get to Paris. I hadn’t counted on my family. They wanted me to come back to Russia. I refused.” Castiel took a sip of his coffee.

“I actually made it to the border of France with time to spare. But, my family can be very … persistent.”

Dean frowned. “What, they kept calling? Must have been important.”

Castel shook his head. “Yes, it was a family matter. But they didn’t just call.” Dean wasn’t following whatever he was implying. 

He continued. “They slowed me down enough that by the time I got to Paris, it was five days after the day we agreed on.” Dean swallowed at the memory of those torturous days of waiting. But, “Your family slowed you down? What do you mean?”

“You don’t just say no to my family.”

Dean laughed weakly. “You’re making it sound like you’re in the Russian mafia or something.”

Castiel didn’t laugh. “I am not.” He cleared his throat. “I cannot speak for the rest of my family.”

Dean blinked. And blinked again. No way. Castiel was not exactly what came to mind when Dean thought ‘mafia family’.

“Oh.” Eloquent as ever. “I’m… not going to ask right now.”

“I appreciate that.” 

“So, when I got your letter-”

“I made the mistake of thinking everything had calmed down. I knew you wouldn’t want to speak to me, and I certainly wasn’t looking for forgiveness, but I managed to get your address and I wanted to at least explain myself.”

Dean nodded slowly. He wasn’t going to forget how he’d felt in Paris, then Spain, but this was closure that he’d never thought he would get.

“Look, I probably owe you an apology as well. I was a dick, that night at the party and-”

“You weren’t being a dick,” the word sounded weird coming from Castiel’s mouth, “you were just making it clear that you weren’t interested. I thought that maybe… but I got the message loud and clear, I just wanted to get your amulet back and then I was going to leave you alone-”

“Stop, just stop.” Dean cut off his rambling and took a deep breath. “Back then, did we have something? Because, you came with us in the van.”

“I thought we did, but I was wrong, you-”

“You said you just wanted to get to France.”

“You actually believed that?”

“You didn’t, well, you didn’t seem interested anymore after that.”

Castiel exhaled loudly. “I was courting you! I travelled with you, we talked, we played guitar. Isn’t quality time a part of courtship?”

“Look, I’m a dumbass. I couldn't tell if someone was... courting me to save my life.”

“Clearly.” Castiel’s voice was dry as sand.

They sat in silence. Dean stared at Castiel’s hand, resting on the table. Then, he took a leap. He put his hand over Castiel’s. The man stared at him, eyes hopeful.

“So, just to be clear. We’re both idiots who can’t communicate for shit.”

Castiel snorted. “And it’s taken us fifteen years to get here.”

Dean nodded ruefully. “Long fifteen years.”

“I think, after all this time, we could try communicating more?”

“Yeah, I, I’d like that.”

Castiel turned his hand over and laced his fingers through Dean’s. It felt like Dean had finally released a breath he’d been holding for too long.

“So. You’re clearly a lot more of a badass than I thought. Did you really just pay Abaddon for the amulet and leave?”

Castiel smiled, showing his teeth. “Well, I did pay her. Then her hostel suffered unrelated damages that put her out of business for some time.” Dean whistled. “I don’t think I should ask.”

“Probably not.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest thing I've ever published online and I'm proud of myself.
> 
> Kudos and comments are super encouraging!


End file.
